


As above, so below | Carlisle Cullen

by musichesca



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: AU - Esme Cullen does not exist, Action/Adventure, Awkwardness, Drug Use, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, F/M, Fantasy, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I will probably change the rating, Light Angst, Love, Major Original Character(s), My First Work in This Fandom, Mystery, Not her fault tho, OC is based on (BBC) Sherlock, Oh OC is also kind of a mean bitch, Romance, Sassy, She is a genius, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smoking, Sociopathic OC, Swearing, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-01-10 04:41:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12291459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musichesca/pseuds/musichesca
Summary: ❝I suddenly realize that their existence alone represents a puzzle to me and the more I learn, the less I am able to piece together - something that I absolutely cannot stand.❞➖  She is the most brilliant mind of her generation, a force to be reckoned with; he is the most brilliant doctor of  his era, a blessing to a wretched race. She helps humans just for the thrill of danger and the adrenaline rush that comes with it; he helps humans for the love he harbors and the gratification that comes with it. In the end, they both are the scattered pieces of the same redundant puzzle.➖ BEFORE READING: each chapter is an encounter with the handsome Dr. Cullen; he may not appear in chapters that are fundamental to the plot of the story.[Twilight and its characters do not belong to me, but to their rightful creator, Stephenie Meyer ; the main character is loosely based on BBC's modern adaptation of Sherlock Holmes][This story is featured on Wattpad and Quotev]





	1. the first glance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve Spencer, the mysterious new girl at Forks High School, gets caught up in Bella's accident - or better yet, spontaneously decides to get caught up in order to uncover the Cullens' secret - , what happens once in the hospital?

My eyes find his in a daze – they are captivating to say the least. Those slender threads mingling in pools of gold and coal make me wonder if there is anything genuine about their peculiar condition at all.

Melanin pigmentation surely cannot create such a shade on its own accord, nor is he wearing contact lenses for that matter –  _weird_ , excruciatingly weird to say the least. Suddenly, a word as clear as daylight appears before my eyes:  _surgery._ I erase the concept upon further inspection as the doctor's irises don't seem to be altered by any intraocular implant -plus, he doesn't appear to be the kind of man that goes to such extent just for the sake of physical appearence.

Furrowing my eyebrows, I read the words coming from his lips through their movement, having been zoning out since his arrival in the hospital room.

<< I've got this one, Jackie. >>

I only take notice of the way his voice effortlessly falls as he pronounces the last two syllables of the other doctor's name - his tone does not betray the strain displayed by his eyes. I observe his features further, creating a mental chart with the information I get in the process: male adult in his mid-thirties, single and yet handsome according to human standards, family man and yet complete workaholic addicted to helping people, sympathetic towards other individuals, naturally charming – an overall decent human being, but most specifically the kind of man that attracts unwanted attention. Even so,  _there is_  something else – something in the way he... carries himself? A bunch of interrogatives suddenly surround his figure as I tilt my head in confusion.

For the first time in my life, I can't place a definition to the state of being of a human individual. It surpasses the limits of anthropoid communication and cannot quite be placed in a definite category. I blink as I notice that the father of the girl that lays on the hospital bed next to mine (she is clearly not the type to entertain  _that kind_  of relationship with such an older man, plus the policeman's stance and exterior practically scream 'divorced dad') has just addressed my presence. He looks stressed, worried and stiff all in one as his eyes contort in a thankful grimace. 

_My, what a pathetic display of emotion._

<< Don't be foolish Mr. Sean, I wouldn't have taken part in such a risky activity, endangering my own life, if I hadn't been completely positive that according to every probability I would have got out of the accident unscathed. No need to thank me, it's futile and, honestly, kind of degrading to my intellectual skills. >>

I don't register the reaction of the boring man, being completely uninterested by his plainly dull antics. I instead decide to focus on the seemingly perfect doctor, trying to further expand my knowledge of his role in this situation: suddenly my mind goes back to my first meeting with the Cullen kids as I reflect upon the fact that they share absolutely no physical trait that could point out their kinship; their extreme and unnatural pallor is indeed a common trait but not significant enough to deem it a smoking gun. Yet, it could be the main symptom of some kind of hereditary disease – even so it's  _very_ unlikely that all five of the Cullen children have actively manifested the condition.

I suddenly realize that their existence alone represents a puzzle to me and the more I learn, the less I am able to piece together –  _something that I absolutely cannot stand_.

A few seconds have passed since I've voiced my loose speech and nobody has uttered a word. I get up from the bed, noting how Dr. Cullen's brows furrow as I approach his form.

<< I'm afraid that your care won't be needed this time Dr. Cullen... >> I turn and swiftly analyze the girl's health condition: << No indication of concussion, she'll be fine within a day of rest. >>

<< And what about you, Miss..? >>

His honeyed words almost make me sneer as I notice how much emotion those unnatural eyes of his hold; another pair of words instantly invade my mind:  _caring_ ,  _alone_.

<< The name's Eve Spencer and I can perfectly assess that nothing's wrong with my current condition. As for your concern, it is uncalled for. >> He seems surprised by my harsh words and his pupils dilate slightly at my proximity –I've sparked his interest and curiosity and he tries controlling his breathing: a first little victory to me, as that means that I will surely get to see more of him and his family sooner or later. << I will see you later. >>

And before I can catch sight of his reaction, I'm already gone.

-

_❝We'll meet again_

_Don't know where, don't know when_

_But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day!❞_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT TO BETTER UNDERSTAND THE CHAPTERS: Eve Spencer's original character is heavyly based on BBC's interpretation of Sherlock - she has an outstanding IQ, sociopathic tendencies, a usually rude behavior and her own Mind Palace (the parts in italics define moments in which she reflects and\or visits her Mind Palace). She absolutely doesn't care about information she judges 'useless' and that's why she doesn't bother to memorize other people's names (cue Bella's father who she wrongly addresses as 'Mr. Sean' instead of Mr. Swan) - the Cullens' names are another story though ;) If you have any question or doubt, feel free to ask!


	2. the second thought

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve Spencer is back in school and, as she heads towards the Cafeteria, 'the girl from the accident' disrupts her confusing train of thoughts linked to a rushed trip to the Mind Palace (italics).

_Silence. Just peaceful, forgotten, cherished silence and... A room. A sealed, lonely portal with a lock, a key somewhere, somewhere here through the walls of cardboard and paper and stone and dents and musk – so much musk. Confusion settles and then vanishes like the dew on a leave on a warm day of September and it's loud, so loud as I reach forward and I grasp and strive, but it's loud, so loud and I can't see, I can't see, I can't see a thing in this white darkness. Then- nothing._

<< Ehm, hi- I just wanted to thank you properly for yesterday, you- you really put yourself in danger for my sake no matter what you say and we don't even really know each other and... uh I'm really grateful. I'm B- >>

My eyes settle on the chatting figure before me and adjust to the seemingly blinding light in an aching haze – I must have been zoning out for approximately seven minutes. My brain processes the words of the girl standing before me as they vibrate and float through her vocal chords and I notice that I recognize her all too well. I don't remember her name, nor will I bother trying – this information is of no use to me whatsoever. I focus on my surroundings and yes, it's loud and crowded and awfully familiar. My eyes find once again the brown orbs of my counterpart as I stop the girl mid-sentence, hoping that after my oncoming speech she'd get the memo and end this pathetic attempt of familiarization instantly.

<< Don't bother. I will forget in about 10.6 seconds and I honestly couldn't care less. Also, as we both know, I'm not the one you should direct your gratefulness to... Really, don't. I think that's enough for our second encounter, farewell stranger. >>

Much like I did yesterday, I leave her before faultily granting her the chance to prolong the appalling conversation – one that does not interest me in the slightest. My mind is set on the sole purpose of inferring and deciphering any kind of valuable information that could associate a pattern to my empiric deductions. My main target? The Cullens.

Now that I've lost the chance to open that forsaken door thanks to that blabbering fool, I can't afford to engage in any other activity but experimentallystudying the situation at hand. By now, it is painfully clear that the Cullens' web of deceit and pretense is thoughtfully weaved through the cracks and shadows of this gloomy town – after all, was there a better place than Forks, the little lost city that counts 3175 inhabitants, to maintain a low-key profile? It really is a good abode to the wicked, if I do say so myself.

Yes, the majority of the Cullens are not related by blood, that much is certain, but I'm just as certain that it's more than a familial sentiment that keeps them together: the kids have been adopted by a single man and seem to isolate themselves from the massess ( _how to blame them?_ ), building romantic relationships among themselves – only the guy with bronze hair and the permanent scowl on his face appears to have grown a liking to an external individual, the boring girl from a few minutes ago. Edward,  _he_  was the one who saved her insignificant life – and that's my main focus right now. Yesterday, I witnessed only a fraction of blurred movement from my crouched position before the truck hit, but I can confidently affirm that the guy had not been standing within swiftly approaching distance; even the girl from before had clearly noticed the strange occurrence and I'm sure that she will soon question once again his savior (she certainly did so at the hospital, after I had left, as curiosity is directly inscribed in human nature and her expression during my earlier speech had given her away).

As I walk further in the swarming and noisy cafeteria, I make a solemn resolution: the secret of that dreadfully and unbelievably complex familial apparatus will unfold before my critical eyes and it won't even be the last objective I've achieved on this Earth. I have intelligence by my side as well as an extensive experience regarding the investigating field: I categorically refuse to be defeated by such a weak opponent. The Cullens' way of just passively existing in such an exceptional way is awfully humiliating and plainly insulting: they are so much more than just weak - they are not even  _playing_  the game, they just conduct themselves like laboratory rats, letting themselves be observed and probed to the scientist's univocal volition until his thirst for answers is quenched. And there they stay, impassible and unchanging – undisturbed by others' curiosity.

But no, they are absolutely no lab rats - they are wise and calculating  _snakes_ : they are aware of my struggle - I read it in Alice's enigmatic smile and Edward's deep eyes as I walk by their table. _They dare to play me, they dare challenging me at my own game._

Soon things will change in my favor, the wind will blow in my direction and I will completely annihilate them - I smell it in the thick air that surrounds their seats, their tense positions: they are on alert, but when I'm going to strike, I'll make sure that they won't even know what hit them.

As I pass by their table smirking, I feel their eyes on me:

<< Let the games begin. >>

 

-

 

_❝_ _We're dancing through the smoke_

_And we don't mind the flames_

_Now we become the ghost_

_That you know by name_ ❞ 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT TO BETTER UNDERSTAND THE CHAPTERS: Eve Spencer's original character is heavyly based on BBC's interpretation of Sherlock - she has an outstanding IQ, sociopathic tendencies, a usually rude behavior and her own Mind Palace (the parts in italics define moments in which she reflects and\or visits her Mind Palace). She absolutely doesn't care about information she judges 'useless' and that's why she doesn't bother to memorize other people's names (cue Bella's father who she wrongly addresses as 'Mr. Sean' instead of Mr. Swan) - the Cullens' names are another story though ;) If you have any question or doubt, feel free to ask!


	3. the third meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve takes the only route that could possibly help her to obtain the answers she desperately desires: she's visiting her Mind Palace, but, this time, it's not just for a quick trip. When she endangers her own health, how will the meeting with a certain doctor affect the outcome of the story?

_Nothing. Absolutely, frustratingly nothing._

_There is nothing I can do to retrieve that tattered piece of information, that damned missing tassel to the puzzle I’ve meticulously molded up to now and I don’t even know why. Nothing to discern, to search for, to acquire knowledge from. What am I missing? What slips from my acute senses undisturbed? Nothing, and yet something does – the key, the key I detected a few days ago in the pale daylight is somewhere here, in this enormous Palace and it’s the only track I’ve left._

_For the first time in my life, I, Eve Spencer, am at the end of my wits and it’s slowly driving me to the edge of insanity. No rational explanation applies to the situation I’ve found myself in, no one of my theories satisfies the truth_ _completely – but I know for sure that what lies behind that door will unravel the mystery once and for all. But this is my own Mind Palace, is it even possible that one of the doors I’ve created myself remains obstructed to me? And even if I did lock it, how come that I don’t remember where the key lies?_

_Those questions remain unanswered to me even as I begin to regain consciousness._

As I gradually rouse from the comatose state I found myself in, my senses begin stirring as well, passively focusing on the surrounding environment: there is almost no light, no heat, no sound. I carefully lift my eyelids to welcome the complete darkness that washes over me just like a violent hurricane and try to grasp once again a shred of self-perception –

_Where am I?_

I’m in my bedroom, obviously.

_How long have I been away?_

If my calculations are correct, _which they always are_ , I should have left the conscious world for about two and a half days.

_What are my vitals as of now?_

Pretty low - but, clearly, I had already anticipated that.

What I had not anticipated, however, was the undue response of my body to the prolonged exertion: suddenly, the world brutally spins around me and it’s all too much to ingest: I am lying on the bed, but my head throbs painfully, my limbs feel as if they don’t properly function at all and my dry, tired eyes close instantly – unfortunately, my body is catching up with my mind’s conclusions about my current dehydrated and intoxicated state. The silence slowly morphs into a far-away, muffled noise, but right now I can’t afford to focalize my attention towards it as the most pressing matter right now is regaining my physical vigor as fast as I can. I turn on my side and lean on my forearm, reaching out with my right hand for the glass of water and energy bar that I had set up on the bedside table a few days ago, while thoughtfully planning my psychological ‘escapee’.

I groan lightly as the muscles of my arm stretch and tense uncomfortably, but I keep on reaching out as I roll on my stomach, still not fully in control of every movement I’m processing. I furrow my eyebrows as my throat burns and pleads for hydration, but the glass seems so far away and suddenly my head heatedly twists once again – _fuck._

I realize that my vision is becoming excessively blurry and that I’m undoubtedly losing the partial control I had at least over my right limb.

_Stupidly weak human body._

As I retreat upon the safety of the mattress, estimating the few minutes of consciousness I’ve left, I surprisingly notice that  someone is prudently approaching my bedchamber. My mind is alert and already trying to create rational hypothesis to justify the presence of the impending guest – _not my aunt, those are not her footsteps, no, no,  it’s surely a man, a grown-up male and those shoes-_

As the door slowly opens, I finally black out.

 

-

 

<< She’s now in stable condition, Ma’am >>

I instantly open my eyes at the sound of the distractingly familiar voice and then procced to abruptly sit up on the messy bed: my head still pulses agonizingly, but I observe and prod at my surroundings in search of adequate answers anyway –  the first information that I acquire is that, fortunately, I am not at the hospital. _Good_.

<< Good morning, Miss Spencer. You gave your aunt quite the scare. >> the Doctor performs that obnoxiously perfect smile of his, calm and collected as ever. I frown in distaste as I lock my gaze to his, searching for the smallest sign of agitation, the slightest clue that he had been distressing his poor mind about my health condition - but hence, I found none.

<< She’ll be fine. >> I mutter irritably.

I don’t care whatsoever for that wretched woman, neither do I feel guilty for what I have done; on the other hand, what I _do_ feel is overwhelming satisfaction for I have accomplished one of the objectives I had programmed to achieve with my plan: the oldest member of the Cullen family is now before my eyes, waiting to be analyzed and poked to my heart’s content.

But what I notice next deeply bothers me as it manages to even disrupt my elated sense of victory: the doctor is fixatedly staring at me with those bronze-gold orbs of his, almost as if he’s just had the unique possibility of admiring one of the most beautiful paintings in the world. His gaze holds thick layers of pure passion and the thought of not being able to read through that intricate pattern of emotions extremely disturbs me. I try to pay attention to his body language, but nothing of use is gained from my observations and the atmosphere around him is slowly growing tenser with each passing second. I furrow my eyebrows, standing up from the bed abruptly as I come to stand directly in front of the oldest Cullen:

<< Stop it – you are making a really ugly expression. >>

 

_-_

_❝_ _I can barely speak, black and white bed sheets,_

 _I feel the air retreat, I know you're here with me_ _❞_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT TO BETTER UNDERSTAND THE CHAPTERS: Eve Spencer's original character is heavyly based on BBC's interpretation of Sherlock - she has an outstanding IQ, sociopathic tendencies, a usually rude behavior and her own Mind Palace (the parts in italics define moments in which she reflects and\or visits her Mind Palace). She absolutely doesn't care about information she judges 'useless' and that's why she doesn't bother to memorize other people's names (cue Bella's father who she wrongly addresses as 'Mr. Sean' instead of Mr. Swan) - the Cullens' names are another story though ;) If you have any question or doubt, feel free to ask!


	4. 4; the fourth touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve wakes up after fainting before her unexpected 'visitor' and now she has to face the consequences of her actions.

The dazzling sound of vocal chords flawlessly vibrating warmly engulfs the untidy bedroom and my body momentarily stops functioning properly _for the third time today_ : a foreign, frightening spell I can’t seem to decipher has been mercilessly cast on me and my wavering mind quietens, trapped in a state of utter and complete addiction – it reels and spins uncomfortably, but this time, I realize with horror, it has nothing to do with the aftermath of my escapee in the Mind Palace.

_Honey - sweet, golden, impeccable nectar that slowly flows through my mind in a swirling haze, blinding my sight and consuming my reason._

Honey? - I scoff internally -  that’s the first information that invades my thoughts after a seemingly endless moment of terrifying confusion and I can’t help but grow irritated, recognizing the childish and pathetic predicament of my hormone-driven physical circumstance.

_What is it? The opium? Has it finally gone to my mind?_

I almost sneer vehemently while pondering that the idea of accepting the impossible hypothesis, instead than facing the graveness of reality, might really be more tolerable in that case. I instantly grow frantic as I notice how little control I have over my own rationality, how my perfectly built conscious slips away from my longing grasp and how my highly logical thoughts morph into something _distasteful_ and _foreign_ to me.

Once again I frown indignantly as my unblinking stare forces itself upon the amused figure of the uninvited guest that stands before me: I perceive his reaction as both unexpected _and_ exaggerated as, according to my experience,  any normal human being would have manifested an offended demeanor, reacting negatively to my rude statement and ultimately leaving me alone, seamlessly validating my calculated anticipations. Oh but the puzzling Dr. Cullen just had to prove once again that he is indeed anything but ordinary! _How infuriatingly remarkable._

I analyze his features - his seemingly flawless features -  glowing in the feeble sunlight that seeps from the window covered by heavy curtains, ones that have been bleached by the unforgiving stains of time and carelessness just like the rest of this forsaken household. There, in the inmost spheres of his welcoming orbs, I find amusement, delight and the same flaring passion that had charred with its startling yearning my keen senses what felt like an eternity ago. I reflect that his existence alone manages to lure my mind and soul towards his: Dr. Cullen is a riddle that I can’t figure out, a game whose rules I completely ignore, a waking nightmare disguised as a charming man.

I try to read him once again, but a preoccupying number of interrogatives clouds my judgement.

<< Miss Spencer, you are quite peculiar >> the man breathes - _affectionately?_ – with a last chuckle; he smiles as he firmly approaches my silent form that ultimately adopts a defensive stance as a self-preservative measurement against the stranger’s invasion of my personal space – if the man even just _thinks_ about performing an act I _remotely_ deem irritating, I won’t hesitate to let him know in the most painful way.

Yet, once again, I find myself utterly flabbergasted by the outcome of his odd behavior: as he comes to stand just a breath away from my tense form, the strange doctor raises a tender hand to rest upon my forehead. His touch is extremely cold and soothes my alert senses into instant calmness – there’s an upsetting undertone to my bodily response and an unpleasant sensation settles into my stuffy stomach, making my entire body feel… _fuzzy? Warm?_

Losing grip of the feeble illusion of physically induced tranquility, I begin silently panicking as I search for a plausible explication that could possibly satisfy the confusion that has settled into my foggy mind since the intimacy of his gentle touch has shaken my form, but I grimly discover that I can actually find none: a bittersweet aftertaste of acrid indignation and hot denial floods my senses as the struggle between my rationality and what seems to be my newly awakened sensibility persistently rages on in my mind.

Fickle minutes of complete and utter silence pass unperturbed by the palpable tension in the dusty air of my bedroom and I’m compelled to chase his tender, icy hand away from my pale temple, hoping to concurrently chase away the uneasiness that the feeling of his skin upon mine mercilessly instills in my consciousness; but the notion abruptly leaves my mind as soon as I notice that my bodily temperature has increased alarmingly: _signs of light sweating, esteemed increase in temperature between 96,8 – 97,7 Fahrenight degrees confusingly ascribed to precise regions of the body, namely cheeks and neck which also show signs of reddening_ – unmistakable evidence of a minor medical condition and certainly of a promptly approaching fever _._ Unnervingly aware of the preoccupying symptoms that keep pestering my already fragile physique, I resolve to finally account the doctor, momentarily and - may I add - _painfully_ throwing aside my haughty pride:

<< No matter Dr. Cullen, I seem to have fallen ill – maybe I _do_ need to be in your care after all. >>

The man smiles knowingly, finally lowering his hand, and I’m suddenly hit by the realization that _Curlisle Cullen_ _does look dazzling_ _and_ – I violently shake my head as I frown resentfully, pondering over my excessively responsive behavior and I can’t help but unnervingly notice that every single episode is linked to the mysterious doctor standing before me.

<< Miss Spencer, are you feeling unwell? I am quite certain that the treatment has proven successful and the signs of early-dehydration have ultimately disappeared. I could run a rapid check-up if you so desire. The experience has proven to be highly trying for your body >>

His honeyed words harmoniously flow through my ears like a haunting melody from afar, velvet notes caressing my cheeks and eyelids tauntingly: I momentarily bask in the glorious symphony, but then I abruptly return to reality once again, just as quickly as my mind had begun aimlessly wandering.

But then his voice twists almost imperceptibly as he apprehensively frowns: << I strongly advise against… >> and I decide not to give him the chance to sermonize me for something that has absolutely nothing to do with him.

<< Cut it short, Doc. I understand, you may leave. >>

My tone is icy and he seems indeed surprised by my unexpectedly cold behavior. He gifts me one last smile, recomposing himself flawlessly, and then heads for the bedroom door. Just as he steps outside of the room, I distinctly hear his hauntingly firm voice:

<< Oh - one last thing if you will, Miss: red _does_ look good on you.  >>

He smiles, and, just like that, he’s gone.

 

.

 

❝ _Do you see what I see?_

_Why do we live like this?_

_Is it because it's true_

_That ignorance is bliss?_ _❞_

 

 

 

**Author note.** Just a quick note to clarify the meaning of this last chapter: when Eve notices the increase in her bodily temperature, she doesn’t understand that it’s actually linked to her embarrassment, thinking it to be just a result of her medical condition (Eve has actually a lot of trouble understanding human feelings and emotional reactions). Our skilled doctor AND vampire, however, notices the true meaning of her reddening face and neck, but decides anyway to humor Eve proposing a check-up to reassure her. His parting phrase actually refers to the fact that he really looks forward to see her blushing because of him far more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT TO BETTER UNDERSTAND THE CHAPTERS: Eve Spencer's original character is heavyly based on BBC's interpretation of Sherlock - she has an outstanding IQ, sociopathic tendencies, a usually rude behavior and her own Mind Palace (the parts in italics define moments in which she reflects and\or visits her Mind Palace). She absolutely doesn't care about information she judges 'useless' and that's why she doesn't bother to memorize other people's names (cue Bella's father who she wrongly addresses as 'Mr. Sean' instead of Mr. Swan) - the Cullens' names are another story though ;) If you have any question or doubt, feel free to ask!


	5. 5; the fifth confrontation, a dent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve takes an interesting choice that will surely affect the outcome of her adventure. Is it for the better or the worse though?

A scorching glare rattles my entire being, almost trespassing the limits of human faculty and urging me to flee as far away as my feet can possibly carry me. The tension fills the atmosphere with its jolts and throbs, an electric and addictive feeling that even I cannot possibly ignore – it almost tastes like fear, that terrible drum that foresees the rifles.

Suddenly, the eyes of the whole forest turn to me, indignant of my menacing presence, weary of my unpredictable invasion. I'm stepping in a sacred sanctuary, shotgun in hand, holding my head high for all of the gods to see; and what could unsettle a god more than a mere mortal challenging their all-mighty will?

Against all of the odds, my lips morph into a confident smirk as I almost chortle my excitement away: I am but a move away from the ultimate checkmate.

There's no need to knock on the transparent door as it carelessly opens before my gaze: I had already spotted the brunette standing by the door on my way to the porch, the lithe girl being the only member of the Cullens' family to actually take the liberty of explicitly confronting my sudden appearance in the clearing. The other Cullens tried to act clueless of my arrival, barely even showing themselves through the glass-like walls of the household, but even then, their forced attempt at camouflaging was utterly pathetic.

I muster a tasteless smile that surely dies on my eyes, but manage to let out the string of words before Alice can direct the conversation elsewhere: << Hello, I'm here to deliver certain documents to Mr. Cullen on behalf of the school – seen your siblings' and your recent period of absence, the Principal asked me to send them to you directly, so that I could also update you on the latest academic material of your classes. >>

Alice never loses her smile and, as expected, it never leaves her lips even as she thanks me and ushers me inside. I scrutinize the new setting, meticulously mapping potential weapons and useful escape routes in case the worst possible scenario had to take place. I certainly am  _not_ unprepared – as I never truly am -, but pondering over multiple courses of action and consecutive outcomes sparks a sense of excitement in my bones: I confess I'm definitely  _hoping_  for the hazardous visit to exceed my expectations, even if it implies a threat.

As Alice leads me through the house to the living room, she lightly announces: << My father won't be home till an hour or so, but please, make yourself comfortable until then! >>

I barely contained a grin as the girl's cheerful statement confirmed I had effortlessly waved the strings together, creating a perfect black spot that allows me freedom of action and investigation into the opponent's house. The pendulum swings in my mind and I immediately start to virtually set up various scenarios that could ease my research of the truth.

Alice doesn't seem bothered by my unannounced visit –  _strange,_ just like anything concerning the Cullens is. It fuels my interest, but my focus quickly shifts from the girl to my surroundings.

For now, I decide to simply wander about the hefty room as my precious host heads to the kitchen – she informs me in a chirpy tone - in order to prepare a snack for me. I don't reply, taking advantage of her temporary absence to sort out whatever information I can acquire from the current setting:

_history books, encyclopedias and useless decorative ornaments on the shelves – nothing relevant apart from the thin layer of dust that practically screams shameless abandonment of the items. Nobody has bothered to consult the tomes in a while._

_No family photos. Unusual from a large and deeply-bonded family such as theirs - maybe they are elsewhere, cast away from the prying eyes of bothersome strangers. Elusive and secretive. They value privacy._

_Haven't had visitors in a while, everything is stacked neatly and tidy, above all the immaculate carpet. They themselves don't go into the living room often._

_Then why hide the photos? Why the effort if nobody ever visits?_

_Everything is untouched, paralyzed in time as if nobody at all inhabits the house._

And yet I notice something new – in the top left corner of the shelves, a few redundant spots seem unaffected by the dust, but the difference is so subtle that at first glance I didn't catch it. So the photos have been expressly moved away only recently.  _Extremely recently._

_Could they have possibly predicted my arrival?_

My head vorticously spins – it  _is_ impossible. But then what else could rationally explain the striking evidence?

_A room. A sealed, lonely portal with a lock, a key somewhere, somewhere here through the walls of cardboard and paper and stone and depression and musk – so much musk. It's cold, it's dark, it's surprisingly foreign. But then, a knock – a powerful, purposeful knock that shakes the entire household. The door trembles and rattles and seems to finally give in; it's forceful, so unexplainably violent, but as light finally snivels from a promising crack into the marble door, my body tumbles back to reality._

I frown, finally resting the documents in my hands upon the coffee table in front of me, steadying my balance. I turn around in order to access the hallway, but I'm halted by an imposing figure that stands between me and the multitude of secrets locked away in the pits of the household.

<< Eve, is it? >> he smiles, a grimace almost as plastic as my own: << What are you doing here? >>. 

 

**-**

 

❝  _Capsize, I'm first in the water_

_Too close to the bottom_ _  
_

_I'm right back where I started_

_Said I'm fine_ ❞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A\N: I'm unexpectedly back from the dead, hope you enjoy the new chapter! And don't worry, the next one will feature our favorite vampire doctor too! This one is principally for context. Let me know what you think, feedback - good or bad - is always deeply appreciated!


End file.
